Fate-Breaker
by Face The Stars
Summary: They say honor breeds redemption, but there's no redemption for the damned. Hyuuga!SI-OC
1. Chapter 1: House of the Sun

" _The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Whoever will be born must destroy a world"_

 _-Hermann Hesse_

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"Do you know where our byakugan comes from?"

My father's voice is a soft summer breeze, his question casted into the waiting dark with a sort of wistfulness.

I tilted my head from where it lay across his lap, moving to see how his pale eyes peered down at me gently, gleaming like a reflection of the sun. He was sitting on the dark wood of the walkway, feet dangling motionlessly from the edge. The soft fabric of his yukata smelled familiar, like the scent of my infanthood and nights curled up between two large warm bodies that provided an unfathomable sphere of comfort and warmth.

Even now, the sharp sting of mint mixed with a soothing undercurrent of tea leaves, washes over me like the drag of the ocean. The heady scent and the unlimited blanket of the sky and the sense of calm I felt deep, deep down nearly pulled me under.

It was a beautiful summer night, the cover of the dark providing some comfort from the blazing heat of the sun that scorched the day. A stray whisper of wind brushed through my favorite wind chimes, the one I had picked out and hung up a few feet away somewhere in the rafters above us one rainy day months ago.

Mother had told me the sound of the rain would only make it's delicate chimes sound sweeter. She had been right.

I shook my head as an answer, and my father continued on.

"Well, legend says it comes from a beautiful princess that came to our land a long, long time ago. Back when nobody had chakra."

Another fairytale? For such a serious man, he quite liked telling me stories. Not that I had any complaints.

Maybe it was something about the cover of the night that beckoned the words out. How we were reduced to just lumpy shapes in the dark, expressions hidden tenderly by ink. Figures instead of people

Maybe it was the fact that it was just me and him, a man and his daughter, enjoying the stars together while the rest of the world dozed. Free of obligations and masks and anything but serenity in the moment.

Maybe that was why he could let the fantasies slip out like gusts of air.

Father looks back up at the sprawl of the stars, dark shadows shifting across his face and sharpening the aristocratic contours of his face. Devastatingly handsome, for sure, in the same way that katana blades are. Sleek and deadly and able to slit your throat in seconds.

It made me wish that one day I would achieve that same sort of lethal edge.

Drifting away from the danger of my father, the assassin, my gaze follows his line of sight instead as he once again becomes my father, the storyteller.

"She had arrived from somewhere unfathomable. Perhaps a star."

The sky was dark above us, illuminated by a million twinkling lights. Constellations upon constellations spread out like a scroll unraveling along a table. It reminded me of the view of city lights from an airplane. I hadn't traveled a lot, but the view of the humming specks had always brightened up hours of sitting in place.

I tried to trace out familiar shapes above me, but there was no Little Dipper or Orion or Ursa Major. This was a completely different sky from the one I had once known.

The thought made a small, sore part of me inside twinge with sorrow, like poking a bruise.3

"The princess fell in love in the king of the land she arrived in. But fate was not meant to be, and he died before her. She would later give birth to two sons."

I closed my eyes. A memory tugged at the back of my mind.

Something was familiar about the tale, but it was too vague and condensed for me to pin one specific name to it. Did she love the king? Did the king love her? The way fate was mentioned seemed to make it so that the king died of unnatural causes. What were the causes?

Wasn't...the princess immortal?

Tou-san caught my slight frown and ran a hand through my hair comfortingly.

"It is just a story, Naoko. Don't think about it too hard."

I habitually relaxed my face, putting on the familiar facade of a tranquil child. It almost felt wrong to change my expression here, where all things were suppose to be lawless. It scared me how fast I was able to slip into that familiar sleeve of false calm.

I've only been in this body for a year at most, and already I have adapted to the watching eyes around me. This mask was as much of me as my new name now.

Naoko...the words wrapped themselves around my tongue like an unfamiliar ghost, but that was my name. Just like how these were my hands, pale and delicate but with a sort of intimidating strength that looked like they belonged to that of a skilled pianist.

Mother had told me my name meant 'obedient, honest child'.

From the beginning, I had been an unexpected pregnancy. I could tell it in how sometimes she looked longingly out the window and fiddled with one of the kunai always hidden up her sleeve, as if restless. I could tell it in the way baby books were always scattered around for her to pick up and reference, having only had the months to read instead of years in advance. I could tell it in the way my father would come home some nights, tired from a long mission, and look subtly surprised, as if he wasn't used to the sight of her waiting there for him to return. It was the little things that cued me into the wider picture(-and my eyes never missed a thing, even if they were sighs I didn't want to know, like the nights I would be chased out of my mother's room and wake up to parents that were a little too-happy).

She had wanted her first child, a girl too at that, to be easy to handle. Someone that wouldn't give her trouble, that would listen to the people around them and realize the delicate paths they had to trend. To understand the strict traditions of their clan, to follow their role in life dutifully, to be someone worthy.

Weakness was not tolerated here. Especially because of who my family was.

I liked to think that I had been living up to my name. There were a lot of things, after all, that I didn't know about this world yet. I trailed after the people that raised me like a duckling, taking heed of their words. I saw the way people acted in response to certain things or actions, and I watched the tenseness in their shoulders and the suspicion in their eyes attentively, realizing what I could and couldn't do in this new world. This new life. This new complex system.

(And I watched distant relatives train in the large area in the middle of the complex, younger ones mostly, from the corner of my eye when I lose interest in the text in my hands. I watch how their feet shift as if in a dance and how their arms are loose but steady and the way they hold weapons, ingraining it all into the limitless container of this mind that never seemed to stop absorbing and learning and _wanting_.)

"One of her sons had eyes red as the dawn. The other, eyes pale as the moon."

I fluttered open my eyes, letting sight back into my world. I marveled at how my existence went from that blind enclosure to this boundless globe of stars.

The moon hung like a shiny orb in the sky tonight. An ornament hundreds of thousands of miles away, lovely but cold and distant.

I couldn't help but pity the rabbit living on the moon. The night is beautiful, yes, but also very lonely at times too. There is no warmth in the dark, despite the fact that the stars burning hotter than I could ever imagine, far, far away.

Here on earth, though, life bloomed even in the dark. I could hear the melodious chirping of weary crickets in the grass, the sweet tinkling of my wind chimes every time a breeze brushed it's cooling hand through the halls of the compound, a solitary croak from a frog near the koi pond-all these sounds of the living colliding together to form the harmony of the night.

In that moment, I didn't think I had ever felt lonely. Or that I ever would.

But then the faint sense of loss stings like soap over a healing scab, reminding me even now of those I've loved and lost. While the soap works to clean and the skin might knit over with time, there would always be a silvery scar across my heart.

"The story splits here. Some believe that the two fought for rule of the land, and their mother died in the midst of their bickering. Some believe that their mother had been corrupt, and the two kind brothers felled her for the sake of their people."

The story tied off loosely. I felt the need to cut the extra string.

I couldn't remember what the true tale had been, but I would rather have one definite version of the ending, wrong it might be, than two vaguely right ones.

"Wha…do you…'ieve, Chichi-ue?"

The words drag themselves harshly from my unused throat, slurred almost to the point of incomprehensibility from my habits of silence. But here, in this placid bubble of stopped time and sleepy haze, the scruff of my words was sanded away by the dim whisper it was carried on.

My father simply smiled down at me, hands moving to smooth down the hair around my ear. I let my eyes slide shut lazily, giving into the rhythmatic minstrulations.

The fabric of his yukata shifts ever so slightly, the sound of sliding cloth telling me that he was once again facing the heavens, watching something I couldn't see.

"I like to think that despite whatever conflict they had with their mother or each other, they both loved their family and their people very deeply."

Lulled by the deep timbre of my father's sentimental voice and the drag of his fingers through my hair, I finally gave into the pleasant drag of sleep.

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In the morning, Natsuki Hyuuga shakes her head at the sight of her husband and daughter asleep on the patio again.

Despite being a well-respected shinobi, Hizashi was still taken to childish acts at times. She supposes she _could_ blame the influence of their daughter, as there was just something about her wide eyes and tininess and the way she liked to curl into their side that made all the love that burst in Natsuki's chest. A feeling that begs her to coddle and coo at her hatchling when she looks at the child that _she_ has made, and she knows that Hizashi experiences much of the same.

Natsuki just sighs.

She makes sure to tuck the sagging blanket a little higher up on their shoulders.

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Naoko Hyuuga is born in the fall of the hottest year in Konoha, a few days after her suspected due date, strangely quiet. For the first few minutes of her life, she had given all those waiting with baited breath in the operation room a scare, thinking that she had been stillborn. It was only until they leaned in close and saw the rising of her chest in short intakes of breath that they realized she was indeed still alive.

After a quick check by the medic on hand, Naoko was cleared of worry and given back to a dazed and tearful Natsuki Hyuuga who quickly wrapped her up in her arms.

Outside of her unusual quiet, the doctor stated, she would most likely be a healthy baby.

No one mentioned the additional concerns whispered to the solemn set of parents. Concerns about vocal cord development, cognition, comprehension. Risk of a mute child, risk of mental deficits, all centered around the fact that their newborn baby just hadn't reacted to the frightening experience of birth.

There was nothing to be done, though, but wait and pray.

A week later, greeted by the many curious branch members that came around to congratulate them and see the new addition to the clan, Natsuki and Hizashi Hyuuga took their daughter home with weights in their chests.

While in the hospital, Naoko had barely moved, abnormal even for an infant. Her fingers never reached out to grab at the many things around her, her feet never kicked in interest of their new mobility, her eyes never blinked open even once.

She would just lay in her bed, perfectly still until someone picked her up, in which then she would at least shift her face towards the warmth.

Even when feeding, Natsuki had to coax her daughter to suckle. Once, they even had to dribble milk down her throat so that she would eat that day.

If it weren't for the fact that she was an infant, the overseeing doctor might've even diagnosed her with depression. The strange fluctuations in her mind at times seemed to suggest so, signs of present activity, but that unusual to any other child he had ever treated.

Finally it was recommended that they try going home, that perhaps Naoko would be more comfortable there than in the white rooms of the hospital.

In other words, there was nothing else they could do for her.

Although she tried not to, Natsuki fretted endlessly.

After the first week of this sluggish behavior, the elders had began giving their precious baby girl disapproving glances, before switching those same eyes upon her and Hizashi. They both knew the thoughts running across those minds, the implication that their child was anything less than _normal-_ hell, even rumors had started circulating about _Hiashi_ , simply due to Hizashi's position as family of the main branch(as this could mean that there was _defect_ in their genes-which simply wasn't acceptable).

The worst part was, there was nothing they could do to deny these claims. As far as Natsuki knew, her child truly was obsolete.

Hizashi said nothing, but he took missions more frequently, and shied away from even looking at Naoko.

Natsuki felt like her heart was sinking to her feet.

She knew what it meant if Naoko would not function. She could not fault Hizashi, for she knew he feared the result even more than she.

So, it was with a sort of earth-shattering relief that Naoko opened her eyes nearly a month after her birth.

Natsuki had been nursing her by the dim light of the candle one night, humming an old lullaby tinged with melancholy and thinking, when she looked down and suddenly found the white-lavender of her daughter's eyes staring at her, wide and luminous as if she'd always been able to see. Shifting left and right as if trying to take in every detail, closing and opening again to refocus.

Sputtering in bafflement, amazement, surprise, relief, a million different emotions that she couldn't put into words, Natsuki scrambled out of her chair, barely having the sense to wrap her child tighter in the cloth of her kimono so she wouldn't fall, before screaming for her husband in an almost-horrified shriek. The man nearly teleported into the room, byakugan activated and kunai on it's way to being unsheathed, before he realized that it was just his own spawn being shoved underneath his nose.

Tired and cross and slightly apprehensive, Hizashi had been ready to just leave and return to the comforts of his still-warm bed before he realized that there were another pair of eyes on him.

And that was the story of how Hizashi Hyuuga almost, _almost_ cried for the first time in his life, looking into the gleaming pearl of his first born, knowing now that she was neither disabled in a lack of vision or otherwise.

From that point, Naoko's learning shot up exponentially, as if trying to make up for the few weeks in which she did nothing. Very quickly, the whispers dispelled at the sight of the active child, causing even Hiashi to relax in relief.

In a matter of months, she turned her position from the clan budding disgrace into the clan's blooming prodigy.

Natsuki almost wanted to puke at the faces that suddenly turned to her with warmth and interest instead of disgust, even as she framed another picture of the landscape that Naoko had drawn up on her bedroom wall.

Naoko herself simply blinked at those around her and went back to coloring surprisingly detailed renditions of a sparrow perched on the wall of their estate.

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Some things are hard to explain, I think, looking at the blood-filled pages of my bedtime storybook.

Like living in a world of killers.

"And so, the great Konoha shinobi defeated all of his foes! The end."

That night, my dreams were filled with massacres and a displaced sense of glory.

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"Naoko, sweetie, come over here and meet your uncle!"

I dropped the brush I had been using to write simple words in shaky kanji, making sure the ink stained tip wouldn't roll out to the floor and make a mess before getting up. Stumbling in through the doorway, I followed my mother's call.

Learning how to read and write was a slow process. The language was a little easier to pick up, but there were still words that I didn't understand, usually more complex phrases and terms.

The feeling of lines blossoming from under the smooth tip of my brush, however, was a pleasant experience.

Locking onto the familiar pale green of her kimono, I toddled over to slump tiredly over my mother's legs. Her hand gently raked through my hair lovingly.

Peeking out from the protection of my arms, I observed the man sitting before us.

My uncle, if he had ever visited, had only done so when I was still in my stage of despair during the first few weeks of life. I don't remember ever meeting him.

It's been months since then, but it had already ingrained into me who the head of my clan was.

I had high expectations for the man that commanded over the rest of us. And I was curious to see the one whom my father(my sweet, strong father) called his brother.

At first glance, he looked like any ordinary hyuuga. White eyes, dark hair, traditional clothing. His face was strikingly similar to my father's in its shape and features, though. They even shared the same hairstyle.

But unlike my Tou-san, there was no softness in his gaze. The lines around his mouth were set with a sterness that struck me with an implication of severity that demanded obedience. There was a lack of mildness, the silence and tenderness like a still lake in the forest that my father commanded.

Instead, he was like a shard of ice in the snow, lying in wait to smear the red of those passing by over the untouched white.

Just as their similarities were obvious, their differences were even more so.

The atmosphere made itself clear to me.

I slipped out of my mother's hold to settle down on the pillow next to her, forcing myself into a nearly perfect seiza, the strain already starting to burn in my legs despite the softness of the pillow.

I hated it.

But I knew I would hate the words that would come if I didn't even more.

"Hello, Un...cle."

While no longer crackling like dried paint, my voice was quiet to ease the strain on my lungs. I really fucked up that part of my development, it would take a while to get my vocal cords to the elasticity of a regular child.

But still, some part of me relished in this self-desecration. The dark feelings that forced me into this veil of silence, veil of mourning for what I could no longer have, bubbles beneath the surface of my skin.

It was so tiring to talk. To have to watch every word that came out, to make sure it had the correct amount of joy and brightness and energy, energy that I just _didn't have_.

He ignored me, sweeping a critical eye over the blotches of ink on my hand that I tried to hide in the folds of my kimono. I knew that my effort was futile when he glanced over them.

"I suppose Hizashi is out on a mission?"

His voice was a deep baritone, not unlike the rumble of my father. I could not help but compare their every movement, picking out the things that defined them as not only twins, but as their own beings.

I could not feel any connection of family to this man, who simply served as a juxtapose of my father rather than his compliment.

Kaa-san nodded. "He headed out on one just this morning."

"A _(word I didn't know)_ , then."

"I can take a message for him if needed."

Hizashi closed his eyes. "No need."

His gaze once again fell upon me, and I looked into his face curiously.

"Has Naoko started her training yet?"

Mother stilled, before resting a hand on my head, almost protectively.

"No...not yet. We were waiting for her to grow a little older first.."

Hiashi looked out through the opening the unclosed sliding doors provided, letting a slight sense of reluctancy fall upon us, as if he would rather not say the things he was about to say.

"War is _(word I didn't know)_ , Natsuki. The sooner she is prepared, the better for not only the village, but for herself as well."

My mother tensed, before letting the pressure in her body unwind like a spool of thread. Her tone was flat, giving no indication of any other lingering emotion.

"Yes, Hyuuga-sama."

After he leaves, she turns to me with what could only be fear in her face and clutches me close to her chest. It felt smothering.

Children didn't survive long on the battlefield, I knew. While the tensions have not escalated to a great need for cannon fodder yet, I was aware that soon, the boys training in the courtyard would be gone for war.

I couldn't bring myself to feel anything else but numb.

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卵

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I blew out the candles of my birthday cake with the hum of my mother in the background. The two tiny flames that denoted my age vanished to leave only the darkness around us.

Despite the presents being pressed into my hands, nothing resides in me but a familiar emptiness.

I pull out chains upon chains of weaponry from the wrapping paper.

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卵

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A low noise drifted to my ears.

My charcoal paused in the middle of forming a tree.

It continued on, wobbling in the air like the echo of an instrument I couldn't point out. The noise was deep and rich, yet hollow and mellow.

I wanted to hear more.

Setting down my project, I slid open the sliding screen door, peeking down the hallways to see if anyone was there.

Kaa-san sat on the edge of the walkway, a thin wooden instrument held up horizontally to her lips. The song danced from trembling high pitches to throbbing lower ones, all slowly played in a way that seemed to catch the world on its axis.

It made me feel as if no sense of hurry existed. As if the galaxies could have stilled, and all that would be left was ourselves, tiny and insignificant, yet so passionate. The music seemed to describe every profound longing and stirring sadness I had ever experianced.

I closed my eyes and tried to push back the tears that threatened to form. All my newly forgotten sorrow was amplified, yet subdued at the same time. I felt like a daisy in the eye of the storm, aware that this moment would not last forever, yet relishing in its presence as something much, much greater than myself.

I don't know how long I kneeled there, leaning towards that haunting noise and drowning in myself, but eventually, the melody trailed off, thin like pulled toffee, before snapping to meet its end.

The silence filled me with unfurling disappointment.

"...Naoko? Why don't you come out?"

Slowly, I peeled open my eyes, feeling like I've just woken up from a millennium long sleep. I take a moment to remember where I am before getting up. And nearly collapsing as my nerves have to remember their function again.

The walk to my mother seemed to drag on, but I sat down beside her, eyeing the sturdy flute in her hands. It was tan in color, striped with periodic bands of dark brown in groups of two.

I realized, suddenly, that it wasn't made of wood.

Kaa-san seemed to notice my confusion, as she held out her instrument for me to see easier.

"What...is th't?"

"It's a bamboo flute. I used to play it _(words I didn't understand)_ but stopped because of ninja duties. Now that I have more time, I thought I would _(words I didn't understand)_ up."

I nodded, and brushed my hand over the smooth surface of the flute. It was cool to the touch.

"Can...you play...'nother one?"

She smiled.

"Of course, dear."

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卵

* * *

 _Steady…_

I shift into a familiar position, feet sliding back to something more stable, raising my arms.

 _Breathe…_

Do not be nervous. The Gentle Fist did not require pure brute strength. Just mobility, accuracy, and swiftness.

It is an art, a manipulation of the body into something sleek and beautiful and venomous.

It is a tool, made to keep you alive against those that would want you dead.

I traced back to my memories, making sure that my stance was in perfect imitation with the bodies in my mental courtyard.

Slowly, I follow their movements, as if backpedaling tracks in the snow, careful to step exactly in the imprint the foot previously left.

 _Strike up, bend your hand to hit the imaginary points along the hand._

From the moment I let myself believe that I was really where I was, in a fictional world, a world that shouldn't exist but did with copious amounts of bloodshed, I was reluctant. Very, _very_ reluctant.

I did not want to be a kunoichi. I did not want to kill or face exhilarating death again or have any part in the changing of fate, regardless of what damn story I ended up landing in.

I was tired. Oh so tired.

 _Deflect, let your hand push to the side of a non-existent enemy._ Slide it smoothly, let momentum carry your weight. That is how you achieve speed and the grace needed to formulate smooth attacks.

I hadn't asked for this. This chance at starting over. All I wanted to do was just drift forever in that endless blank of space, missing and longing and crushing the fear and loss that had started to invade my mind the moment I regained 'consciousness'.

And that's what I did for the first few weeks, until the soft pleading of a voice I couldn't recognize drifted to me through the film, night after night, begging in that hopeless affection.

It made everything hurt more. I had just wanted it to stop.

 _I'm already suffering enough. What do you want? Please stop crying out in that voice that makes_ me _want to cry._

 _Just leave me alone._

Like a bird, I cracked through the brittle darkness of the shell around me for the first time, determined to find the source of the weeping words. From the moment I first saw the world around me, in it's infinite possibilities, the suffocating all-encompassing void of my egg made itself know to me.

And I became addicted to the warmth of the light.

Acceptance does not come without sacrifice. In order to face living in this life, I had to dissolve the memories of my previous one in acid.

Every single memory that I had treasured. Every fading face, every lingering sensation, every reminder of laughter. Things that had all kept me tethered to that previous place. I let them all burn like photographs in a fire.

The destruction of a world by the only one that would ever know of its existence.

Love and hate and all the things that had made me long for what I couldn't have shed from my back like water from feathers.

I wanted to live this new life, something that felt pathetic in my worthless hands, in relative peace. Feelings felt too complex now, like they would overwhelm me if I ever tried experiencing anything other than desolation again. I spun for myself fantasies of obscure mountains, far away from any and all human interaction.

A monk-like life that I could spend forever reveling in that ache of familiar loneliness. Simply...existing. Until I wouldn't have to anymore.

Very quickly though, I was slapped into reality with the realization that my dream would not reach fruition. Not because of personal hurdles, but because of ones entirely out of my control.

Namely, the clan I was born into.

Prideful Hyuuga.

We were not the Uchiha, living in their own sector of the city in what was basically their own town. We were not the Nara, allowed to sit at home base and think up strategies. We were most definitely not some small clan that I could just creep my way out of.

We were the Hyuuga. Close-range combatants. Powerful operatives. Dedicated to our village. To our grave.

In basic terms, we _belonged_ to Konoha.

Our bloodline was valuable beyond belief as it was, enough so that seals are branded onto us like wandering cattle. Our power served as a reminder to other villages, political pawns exploited for their loyalty. Our unique taijutsu style devastating on the field.

It was not permitted for us chose a path other than that of the shinobi.

Each and every single capable man and woman was bound to serve the village.

Those that did not(or rather, _could not)_ were cast aside like scum.

We would utilize our eyes for the sake of the village, sacrificing our lives in a blaze of fire to feed the roots of the tree with our ashes. None of us would ever achieve any fulfillment beyond protecting and benefitting Konoha.

And _that_ , was our fate.

It was so silly to me, at the time, how a single drop of blood could determine the course of your entire life. Just because something different(I wouldn't call it special. Special suggests being wanted, being admired, being greater than the rest, and I wasn't any of those things) ran through my body like a disease, I would be stripped of my own rights and needs and wishes.

Not even a child can be spared from the dirt of the road everyone has forced them onto.

Sometimes, I wonder how it would feel if I just strung myself up and bled myself out. Then maybe, my useless husk of a body, devoid of the blood needed for _bloodlines_ would finally be free.

I started to resent that word, and every other phrase that implied genetic benefits. Kekkei genkai. Dojutsu. Simple formations of speech that bound me to the ground like chains.

I started to resent the clan symbol stitched on the inside of every kimono I owned, hidden as if only to remind me of who I was. Like it wasn't enough looking in the mirror every night and seeing the blaring reminder in my face of where I belonged.

I started to resent every pair of pale, lifeless eyes( _my_ eyes _)_ that gazed at me with expectations and contempt and _judgement_ , reducing me to an animal being weighed for it's value before getting sent to the slaughterhouse.

But here I was. Watching and training and sitting quietly in the same seiza I was taught from a child.

Not letting the pain that burned in my brain reflect in the careful blankness of the orbs set in my face.

A sneer tore apart the placid expression on my face like a fist crumpling through one of the many rice paper screens that made up the compound, destroying the delicate compositions with vivacious glee.

Hate seared into me like the smouldering red of an iron.

If they wanted me to be a ninja and follow their stupid path like a good little murderer, then I _would_.

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 _ **Strap yourselves in. I hope you guys are ready for a long and bumpy ride.**_

 _God, I can't believe I rewrote this like 5 times. Thanks to_ Cyndaquil123 _for beta-ing._

 _Also, a note for those that don't know,_ Chichi-ue _means father. It is typically used when referring to one's own father._


	2. Chapter 2: Eyes of the Moon

" _You are the nest. You are the hatchling. You are the chrysalis. You are the progeny. You are the rot that falls from stars. You may not understand what I mean. You will."  
\- Rick Yancey, The Isle of Blood_

* * *

雛

* * *

I spread the white of my scroll across the neatly trimmed grass, the kanji I've practically memorized laid out in case I needed a refresher.

Here, it is noiseless-not that the rest of the Hyuuga compound is particularly disruptive in the first place. Instead, it comes with a sort of discontent, when you realize the hundreds of eyes that were known to encompass all could be upon you at any time. Typically, it was frowned upon to activate your Byakugan in the compounds outside of training, but it wasn't a definite rule. And like all rules, the main clan was always exempt.

If you thought about it, it really was messed up. The fact that the main branch was allowed to peek into our lives at whim, just like how they held the power of life and death over their clan.

A leverage, born from promises of pain and death, our fates cradled in the hand of one man.

It was a dystopia I wish I could forget I lived in.

That's why, sitting in the cover of the blooming Hyuuga gardens, far away from the creaking of the compound and all alone, I feel much more at ease.

My legs were crossed and my hands were held in the sign for concentration that I was taught, helping me focus on the chakra inside me. It acted as a sort of stabilizer, a way to keep me anchored while allowing my mind to wander. Like a fishing rod, if my body was a pool of string. I theorized it had something to do with the manipulation of the tenketsu in my hand, the easiest ones to use in most cases, despite me not actively channeling energy into them.

Chakra...is a strange concept. It's the energy running through bodies, it's the force that breathes life into the body, a necessary. Yet, it is not part of your body. It belongs to you, but it is not any form of organ or muscle.

It belongs to you, but it does not.

It simply...exists. As a source of stamina. As a weapon, as a prelude to jutsus and walking on water and a manner of other manipulations. Made not of molecules, but of something completely beyond the grasp of mankind.

It's not natural.

And that's why I can pick it out as easily as an eel swimming in a pond of colorful koi.

The sweet perfume of the azalea bush to my left drew it's intoxication across my nose. I breathed it out, and felt myself sink within.

Deep in the middle of my solar plexus was a stagnant warmth. The surface of a lake, undisturbed. Perfectly even.

I acted as if to dip down, feeling my imaginary hand phase through the sharp tension of the top. The 'liquid' followed me as I withdrew my touch, pulling itself from the surface. It seemed sluggish, as if reluctant to leave the pool.

I beckoned, and it finally moved, finding my persuasion greater than that of its origin.

Charming the snake, I drew it up, up, up, sometimes having to back down in order to pull again with greater strength. I managed this until it got to somewhere between the top of my stomach and the bottom of my lungs and the string grew too thin for me to drag any further.

I let it slip out of my grasp.

Taking a deep breath, I wiped away the sweat that had began to bead at my hairline and started over.

The second time, the chakra barely reached further.

The third time, I tried to gather more before pulling it up. This seemed to work, but it took longer to coax this bigger mass to do as I willed. It began to grow turbulent, like the waves of an ocean, the further it got from the source. I had to make sure to press it down.

The fifth time, I got the chakra to the bottom of my neck.

The tenth time, it made a slow process towards the base of my skull.

The sixteenth time, I had managed to get the strand towards the systems in my head, by my eyes. There was not enough, however, for me to do anything with it. I was panting from the exertion. Holding even this much chakra was as sapping as holding myself in a plank. The longer it went on, the more tired I got.

Sternly tugging on the strand, I tried to demand more from it. I felt the bottom slosh slightly, as if it had heard but didn't deem my request worthy enough.

I tugged again, harder.

It didn't bulge.

Irritated, I took another long breath to calm myself, before trying persuasion again. My chakra seemed to respond quite well to that.

There was a bit of timid movement near my core at my insistence, an almost unsure wobble, before some surged up the chain. Smirking in triumph, I encouraged it to travel further.

 _Look,_ I prompted, _the path has already been made. Just follow._

The chakra slipped smoothly up my previous strand, before finally pooling near the thin tip I held in my head.

The flooding provided some extra pressure in my head, which gave me a bit of a headache as I wasn't yet used to the gathering of chakra in specific areas, and I let go, satisfied for the time being.

Immediately I slumped over into the grass. Short green strands ticked my cheek, not enough so that it was a bother, and the warmth of the sun sank into me comfortingly.

My eyes slid close.

A nap sounded nice right now.

(I'm already asleep by the time the idea forms.)

* * *

雛

* * *

Natsuki Hyuuga clicked her tongue at the sight of her daughter slumbering in the middle of the azalea. The sun had already began to sink into the horizon, so she had come out to find her absent daughter, only for her byakugan to tell her that Naoko had decided to sleep in the gardens.

Running a thumb over one of the pink blossoms nearby thoughtfully, Natsuki plucked it tenderly.

Naoko is carried home on her mother's back, kimono smudged with dirt and grass stains, and a small, rosy flower tucked behind her ear.

The fragrance followed her all the way into her bed.

* * *

雛

* * *

It was another beautiful day today, the white fluffs of cloud perfectly set against a blue sky. The heat of the sun was gone, pulled away by shadows and the damp of the tapping rains and a crisp wind.

Fall had emerged from the remains of summer, and the ruckus of singing sparrows was only accented by a new crackling of drying leaves.

It was also a Tuesday, and my mother was preparing to drag me from the (relative) safety of the clan walls to go out to meet with some of her friends. Sitting in front of the mirror as she yanked my tangled hair into place, I could only feel a bud of nervousness. This would be my first time outside of the compound.

My regular gray kimono was traded for one of a muted orange, nothing too bright or saturated. Only the main family could wear eye-catching colors.

I didn't know why. All it would do was make them stick out more, paint a target on their backs. But I suppose that _is_ the point, isn't it? A display of power, in that they were special from the rest and moreover, perfectly capable.

Even things like a simple kimono had to be turned into a means of an end, here.

I shifted uncomfortable as Kaa-san tied the black obi around my waist a little too tightly. I could feel it struggling against my skin with every breath I took.

I didn't say a word.

We left the compound hand in hand, greeting those we saw in our path with a polite nod of the head. I stared up at the large trees that began to appear as we walked from the more desolate area where the Hyuuga clan lived onto the main road.

We had trees. Of course we did. Large, curving red maple and pink sakura and green willow. They just didn't compare to the pure height of the ones that I saw now, easily taller than three buildings stacked upon one another.

Their leaves were still a dark green, only the beginning of their winter transformation.

Within my first steps into the heart of Konoha, I realized two things.

One, the heavy folds of my kimino bunching around my legs as I walked provided an odd sense of comfort.

And two, Konoha was loud. And bright. And overwhelming.

From the sound of blacksmithing across the corner to the gossiping civilian women to the cloying whiff of meat, the barrage of sensations almost made me feel sick.

I could handle dying. I could handle years of floating in an infinite void, devoid of taste and touch and sound. I could handle rebirth, breastfeeding, and training as hard as I could to immerse myself in this world and make my family happy. I could handle the calming solitude of the compound. But I could _not_ handle the overwhelming noises that made my ears ring when all those around me were always taken to speaking in soft voices, colors that were almost too-bright, a dizzy contrast from the mostly monotone shades of the kimonos worn by members of my clan.

I had gotten a little too comfortable with my surroundings, I assume, in those years of nothing.

Kaa-san hummed and looked back at me as if she expected my disorientation, letting me grab the soft yellow of her kimino to stabilize myself.

Eventually, all the smells and movements filter themselves out with time. Other than the occasional drifts of an unpleasant scent, my senses became accustomed to the chaos, and I took a new interest in the structures around me. There were many different buildings, of all shapes and sizes and color. There was no orderly structure to them, a short and wide building could be right next to a long and tall one. A blue building right next to a red one. The ones that had tiling had them in a multitude of colors as well, different from the shade of the building and covered in electrical cords. There were stores and apartments and signs and places that just had flaps of cloth for a door, and there were what seemed like a million tiny alleyways and crevices to slip through.

It was...exciting.

The colors breathed a sort of life onto the streets. It didn't feel like a city, it wasn't nearly big or filthy or monotone enough. It felt like something warm and homely and familiar. It felt like somewhere that I would one day be able to know inside and out, know every shop and every corner and where every pathway led.

I find that I can't wait to see the rest of Konoha.

Of course, the most prominent view of the village is the monument carved into the side of the mountain, overlooking all. The four Hokages.

Names flash into my brain before I could help it. Hashirama Senju, with the image of a grinning man with long brown hair. Tobirama Senju, hateful brother, cold and biting like the winter ocean and hair that matched the snow. Hiruzen Sarutobi, current Hokage, wise but too soft.

Something prickled inside me, whispering Minato Namikage, bright sun. Tsunade, strong medic. _Kakashi, Naruto-_ stop. No more.

I don't want to know anymore.

The memories return to their chambers, and lie in wait for the next landmark.

We walk for a little longer, and my mother tells me that it shouldn't be much further.

Sometimes, I catch sight of dark flickers along the roof, but they're always too fast for me to see clearly.

For the next ten minutes, I settled for watching the shops we passed by. By the time we finally reached the restaurant, I had a talley of seventeen weapon shops, twenty three shinobi clothing stores, two places that sold 'exclusive' ninja gear, nineteen scroll shops, five military ration centers, and one store dedicated entirely to pranks involving bombs.

All around were shops that pandered to ninja needs, usually ran by civilians. That made sense. There was a sort of scale to be kept, I suppose. The civilians relied on the ninjas to take jobs, either from them or outside sources, to spend at their stores, stimulating the economy. Meanwhile, many civilians, especially children, are taught to regard the shinobi as a functional necessary and positive aspect of their environment. That was probably the reason a lot of civilian children flooded into the Academy during their first year or so, before they realized the true divide in power.

Kaa-san and I arrive at what looks like a fancy tea-house, the exterior painted a calming green and decorated with artisanal plants. As we step inside, I felt the cold air conditioning from the inside lick at my ankles. Luckily, my kimono was enough to keep me warm.

The waitress dressed formally in a nice two-tone kimono leads us over to a booth in the corner at my mother's name, and I notice that all of the seats were covered with a heavy black curtain, preventing me from seeing who was sitting where.

Paranoid shinobi.

The area itself from what I could see was quite wide and, as most buildings in Konoha, made out of wood. There was a pleasant smell, a mixture of food and sandalwood, that wasn't overwhelming. All around me, I can see waiters slipping in and out of black curtains, the seats all lined against walls. The middle was occupied by wooden tables and what I could only guess to be civilians.

As we reach our table, I realize that someone's already there, waiting.

It takes a little bit of a struggle for me to climb onto the seats and right myself before I could get a good look at our table mate. By then, my mother was already next to me and the waitress had left with a soft sway of the privacy curtain. The rest of the world is shut out, and I'm suddenly made aware of the quiet.

"Ah, Asuka. You're early, as usual."

The woman, Asuka, simply nods. She wore tinted goggles that hid her eyes and a high collar cloak in a pleasant shade of mossy forest green. Her sleeves were long as well, resting on the table as her gloved hands cupped around a glass of water. Her hair was short, an inky black that curled into her collar, and her hiate-ate was stitched onto her jacket in the form of a silver gleam at her sleeve.

"Naoko, meet Asuka Aburame. We were jounin partners." Kaa-san says.

Aburame...the name sounded very familiar, and her appearance did too. I try to remember my brief lessons on the village history and clans.

Oh, the bug kekkei genkai, right? They tended to keep to themselves, are not much involved in politics, but are worthy shinobi. Not a lot of information is given on them, as the Aburame are highly secretive. The glasses and covering uniforms were usually a sign of their appearance.

"Hello, Aburame-san."

"It is nice to meet you, Naoko. Just call me Asuka."

I felt myself comforted by the wash of her voice, a smooth alto, like water sliding down my back.

"Okay, Asuka-oba-san."

Settling in, I propped open the menu in front of me and looked over the choices. I couldn't recognize half of the teas listed, just knowing that the one we drank most often at our house(and Tou-san liked to drink tea _a lot)_ was kabusecha. It wasn't bad, in fact, I quite enjoyed the hint of sweetness with it's crisp taste.

I shrugged, deciding to let my mother or whoever else pick out the tea. I had no real preference.

The snacks, on the other hand…

I drooled.

"Kaa-san…" I tugged at her sleeve, and she looked over from her own menu questioningly.

I pointed to the mochi palate sampler eagerly. All she did was sigh.

"I swear Naoko, I don't know where you get your sweet tooth from...neither your Tou-san or I like sweets that much."

Yeah, it came more from my previous life's encounters than genetics(although I've found myself to dislike foods I used to be okay with, and like other things I would never have even considered-like wakame, a sort of seaweed). I had limited encounters with Japanese cuisine, a pity as I found it now to suit nearly all my tastes. Especially the mild but not-too-sugary sweets.

The waitress came back to give us our teas and take our additional orders. Kaa-san poured out a cup for me, warning me it was hot.

I sniffed curiously at the clear orange color, wondering what it tasted like. The scent was nice, at least. Something between zest and lavender.

"Oh, there you guys are!" A young blonde woman poked her head in through the curtain, taking a quick glance around before shooing Asuka further down the bench and sitting down.

"Sorry I was late, had to do duty at the flower shop today and the last shipment ran a little late."

Asuka simply grunted in acknowledgement while my mother smiled.

"No worries, Chuya-san. Meet my daughter." She paused for a moment to let the other woman pat down her blonde hair. Her bands were held back in the back of her head by what were most likely clips, and she finally quit fidgeting to stare at me with curious brown eyes.

"Naoko, say hello to Chuya Yamanaka. Part of my old genin team from the Academy."

I perked up. Someone that knew my mother back when she was a genin?

"H-Hello…" I offered her a small, nervous smile when my voice unexpectedly cracked in the middle of my words. I'm not going through puberty _yet_ goddammit.

She didn't seem to notice, though, or perhaps she did and found it endearing as she instantly began cooing.

"What a _sweetie_! You're the cutest, aren't ya." I grimaced as she reached over the table to pinch my face. I knew I was still squishy, but that didn't mean it was comfortable…

When she retracted her hands, I rubbed the red marks left with a pout. Next time, I'll just save myself the trouble and avoid it.

Chuya chattered on, a bright chirp to her voice.

"Honestly, Natsuki-chan, I really didn't expect you to be the first of us to have a child. You were always so disinterested! I thought you were just gonna end up married to your work. But look at you now! A husband _and_ a child! I almost can't believe it."

Kaa-san took a sip of her tea.

"Well, there was always something different about the thought and the action. I'm glad I had her, even if I _do_ miss active duty."

I pressed against her side, and she gave me a brief squeeze before turning her attention towards the woman across from us again.

"But enough about me, how have things been for you two? I know you haven't yet retired, Asuka-san. How are the others?"

While they played catch-up, I zoned out, paying most of my attention to the colorful plate of differently flavored mochi that had been set down in the middle of the table.

My mouth watered.

So many different colors. So many different choices. Which one should I choose first? How about...that red one? My hand darted out, and I claimed my prize.

I chewed carefully, noting how the mochi seemed even softer than the ones Kaa-san made, if not less sticky. The filling touched my taste buds, and it took me a few seconds before I classified it as red bean paste.

I blew on my tea and drank some when I was sure it wouldn't burn me. A pleasantly nutty yet citrusy flavor flooded my mouth.

Licking my lips in consideration, I took another bite of mochi.

The tea was good. The food was good. Life was good.

Content, I tuned back into the conversation.

Chuya was a chunin, preferring to more missions in and around Konoha than traveling to other countries. She had shrugged, saying she still didn't feel much of an urge to leave the village(although the pressure was definitely on, tensions amongst villages have been rising, they whispered). She worked usually at the flower shop on days she wasn't busy.

Asuka was an active jounin, and while she couldn't talk a lot about the specifics of missions, she still shared some anecdotes that incited laughter. She was thinking of taking on her own genin team this or the next year, saying that things were getting a little lonely with people retiring left and right to start families.

A few hours later, we said goodbye and Kaa-san and I started the walk home. I was a little disappointed, as it had been fun listening to something other than tales and lectures. Not that I had anything against the latter material, as they were perfectly interesting, it was just the variety found in hearing about the real world, the world I would be living in, from the perspective of others. That, and all that yummy mochi...though I think I might end with a stomach ache from all that sugar.

I grabbed my abdomen as my insides twisted to affirm my concerns, groaning.

Kaa-san laughed.

"That's what happens when you eat ten mochi all by yourself, Naoko."

I whimpered, raising my arms up and begging for her to carry me. She gave me the equivalent of a Hyuuga eye roll, but I saw the spark of mirth in her gaze.

"Alright, this time. But learn not to eat so many sweets next time."

I nodded solemnly, and Kaa-san hoisted me into her arms. As we walked along the less-crowded streets in the orange wash of the sunset, I felt the world cinch together in completion for one brief moment.

* * *

雛

* * *

The start of the Third Shinobi War quickly put an end to any of their dreams of peace. Asuka is sent to the front lines, and we don't see her for another three months.

It's only when she stumbles back with a third of her platoon, missing half her arm, that we know she's still alive.

* * *

雛

* * *

The world is in hyper definition. It feels like a blindfold has been lifted from my eyes. I can see the chrysanthemum blooming behind me, the oak tree to it's left-things that I shouldn't be able to even glimpse. If I wanted to, I could count every strand of grass on the ground, follow the path of every individual ant carrying food back to their colony, see the details of every last hair on their backs if I focused hard enough.

My head pounds, and I feel nauseous.

I only see in that vision for a brief second, though, before the chakra delicately directed through my system disperses. Just as well, because I have to scramble to lean over into the bushes and puke out my disorientation.

The glowing pride burning in my chest almost makes up for the sickly feel of cold sweat running down the back of my neck and the acidic taste of bile in my mouth.

After a few more days, a lot more tries, a handy bucket nearby, and more instances of passing out than I had ever had in my previous life combined, I could hold my byakugan for two minutes before having to stop. The amount of concentration needed was insane. I had to slowly feed the chakra into my eyes, any mishap would end up in what could be permanent pathway damage.

The entire ordeal was just hazardous in general.

In that time, I determined the full distance of my sight to be around a meter, the furthest I could see before everything rubbed away into darkness. Blatantly short. I can't imagine the amount of information in the kilometers my clansmen were able to see, when even my small range threatened a sensory overload.

Tou-san gave me a proud smile when I showed him the bulging of my eyes, and Kaa-san just shook her head and tried to strap me into my bed at how sick I looked, even with a gleam of delight in her eyes. Regardless of how gruelling the process had been, it was all worth it for that brightness in their face.

After all, a Hyuuga was nothing without their byakugan.

Something ugly twisted within me, beyond the clamminess of my hands and the pale drag of my skin, obviously unhealthy.

A Hyuuga was nothing without their byakugan.

* * *

雛

* * *

"Sorry Asuka, can you take her for today? I know it's sudden, but Chuya's not in the village right now and something suddenly came up."

I looked up at the familiar Aburame woman as my mother flitted about, unusually distressed, giving her a trepid smile and a wave with that hand that wasn't clutched in my progenator's hold.

Following her...incident on the battlefields, Asuka had been confined to the village for the past few months to 'recover'. We regularly visited her in the hospital when she was still being monitored, bringing salty snacks(her favorite) and brightly blooming bouquets on days Chuya couldn't make it. There was, ultimately, nothing to distract her in the empty rooms of the infirmary. Although she had greeted us with the same sense of calm as the first time I met her, there was a tenseness to her frame that betrayed her discomfort.

She had lost her dominant hand. Things were suddenly much harder.

She was unable to write, unable to read either without a good amount of difficulty. She had to stretch awkwardly to reach for things over her shoulder, or even to wash her back. She had trouble doing things as basic as holding chopsticks, much less form seals and throw weapons.

If she was let out onto the field, it was a guaranteed death.

None of us mentioned it, but we all knew that her career as a jounin was over. She would be reduced to C ranks and under, living the rest of her life faced with the scorn of those that just couldn't understand or care enough to.

I can't imagine what it was like, watching your comrades leave for battle every day, knowing that not all of them will return, and being helpless to stop it.

Asuka still reached out for things, sometimes, forgetting that she was missing part of herself. The look on her face afterwards was the one of the things I hated most in this world. It always takes her a few hours to recover and go back to normalcy.

And _that_ , was nothing salted caramel and lilacs could fix.

"It is not problem, Natsuki-san. I am not busy today."

With a quick customary rundown of "Behave, okay, Naoko?", Kaa-san is gone with the wind and I turn to the taciturn Aburame I've been left with, uncertain of what to do.

Asuka seems to have no such of the same reserves and starts walking back through the gates. I follow dutifully.

I make sure to watch the ground when I walk, not wanting to tread on any bugs. I knew how the Aburame got about their companions at times, proven by the wails of anguish Asuka had let out once when half of her kikaichū were lost to a carnivorous plant in an unfortunate accident at the Yamanaka flower shop.

The woman in question sent me a look from over her shoulder, muttering that it was okay and they would scatter.

We wound through the rest of the compound wordlessly, made of a much darker wood than the Hyuuga one. I take note of the many hives inhabiting the corners and the sugared honey slathered along the side of the walkway.

Asuka opens the door to what I can only assume is her room, letting me in before closing the door. There's two piles of metal on the floor, along with a bottle of polish and a worn looking cloth.

"Pardon my intrusion…" I mumble, more out of ingrained habits than anything.

Asuka sits down, picking up the cloth carefully. I sit down a few feet away.

She moves a weapon away from the pile to in front of her, resting a knee on the corner of it to start polishing. The slight clumsiness in her movement reveals that it's a method she was still getting used to.

Neither of us were very talkative, which made for a lot of quiet. That wasn't bad, however. I just sat and watched as she cleaned her already meticulous weaponry. Some were thinner at the blade, probably older weapons that had gone through many sharpenings. Others had different sized holes, and I wonder at how much use it would have to take to wear the middle of a shuriken down like that.

I watched the mechanical swipe of her cloth over the shining kunai, always ten strokes, I had counted, content.

"Have you began training with weapons yet?"

At the soft question, I looked up. Asuka doesn't stop polishing.

"No."

Asuka held the four pointed star she had been polishing to the light, tilting it to watch the slide of light across the metal, checking for imperfections.

"Do you want to learn how?"

She threw the suggestion out as casually as if she were simply asking about the weather. As if she hadn't just offered to teach a two year old child how to throw a weapon. How to kill.

Some part of me whispers that this isn't normal. That living here isn't normal, that kimonos aren't normal, that dojutsus and wars and death aren't normal. That the last thing I would want is to take a life, and feel that warm red over my hands like a tattoo. Tainted innocence.

But I felt more hesitance in wondering if throwing a weapon would bring back memories she would rather not remember. That tiny voice in my head is once again silenced, because what was normal then isn't normal now.

Curiosity and excitement win out.

Asuka seems unbothered by my train of thoughts, picking out a few items from her polished pile. She stands up, teetering slightly before taking a step. I get up and follow her.

We walk to what looked like their main training ground, as recognizable as my own, except that it's surrounded by a swath of dark pine trees that occasionally give noisy chirps. A resting place for bugs, then.

There are a few children here, all older by a few years or more. They give Asuka a respectful greeting that she returns with a grunt.

I ignore their curious looks as she stands me in front of a log a distance away from the others. Asuka's voice is marble as she tells me how to shift my body, cold in a way I've never heard. When I've met her standards, she presses a kunai into my hand.

The dense metal feels wrong in my hold, but I do as she says.

The first kunai barely hits outside the circle.

I test the weight again, evaluating. The next one flies with slightly more accuracy, as I adjust to the mass and the timing. At this distance, I don't have to worry about significant arcs. The natural force of the kunai handles that.

It only takes a few tries for me to find a rhythm.

The ones after don't miss.

The log gets further and further away as Asuka pulls me backwards. The tweaks I need to make are minimal, ones I get down in seconds. Throwing becomes as natural as breathing, and I let my body twist to generate the amount of force needed to stick the weapons.

The Aburame that had been training next to us have stopped, watching with newfound interest.

I let another volley of deadly points fly into log. They cluster in the crowded center like weeds. When I run out, Asuka produces more from thin air. I don't question where they come from.

By the end of the day, the log looks more like a porcupine than a block of wood.

I can't help but imagine how pleased Tou-san would be when I showed him my new skill. Facing the woman that had been silently standing behind me, I beam.

"Thank you...Asuka-oba-san."

She's motionless for a minute before she offers me a faint nod. The air around her is lighter now, but something about her radiates what feels like uncertainty. My smile fades a little.

Asuka gently lays a hand on my head, and I feel my apprehension dissipate.

"Good job."

I help her pull out all the kunai before we head back. The others that had been here had already left about an hour prior, and I happily compared my kunai positions on the target with theirs in my mind.

We walk back, and there are more bugs in the grass now. They stir with every step we take, ladybugs and beetles and all manners of insects that I knew a previous me would have screeched at. But in the Aburame Compound, they do not touch guests without permission, each and every one of them under the hold of the clan head.

Dragonflies buzz over our heads, wings glimmering iridescent in the fading light. The sun was starting to lower, but their dances did not cease.

To my surprise, my mother is already waiting at the gates. I refrain from throwing myself into her arms, but I cling onto her leg. Her hand instinctively comes around me even as she addresses her old comrade.

"I hope she wasn't too much trouble, Asuka-san."

The said woman watched us, an emotion in her eyes that I couldn't see through her goggles, before she spoke.

"It was no issue, Natsuki. You know you and your daughter are welcome here at any time."

With a wave goodbye, we began on our way home in the orange of the dusk, me filling the peace with rambling and a flashing of the kunai Asuka had slid into the obi of my kimono.

Kaa-san's eyes glimmer, and she reeks of a hidden mischief as she shows me tricks she picked up in her youth.

* * *

雛

* * *

I never get the chance to show Tou-san. Hizashi Hyuuga hasn't been home in months, directing forces along the Northern border, showing allies and enemies alike why our clan was to be feared.

Secretly, I wonder if one day it'll be our door the genin knock on, delivering a scroll with kanji so dark it blots out the sun.

Secretly, I wonder if there even will be a scroll, or if it'll just be a slip of paper, declaring that the body was never found.

* * *

雛

* * *

The second Natsuki deemed her daughter old enough to not die without her watch, she strapped back on her hiate-ate and rolled bandages back over her legs and shot off to the Hokage Tower to receive a mission. The war was full-blown, and they needed every competent shinobi they could get their hands on.

In her absences, Natsuki's sister-in-law volunteered to babysit, claiming that it was no problem as she wanted practice for when she herself would eventually have children.

Hisano Hyuuga was a gentle woman. Delicate, refined, soft as the morning dew on the arum lily that lures you in with it's sweetness, and just as pale. Her dark lashes brought out the shine of her bright eyes and her hair was a dark, dark purple.

I could easily see how she managed to enrature my uncle.

"What do you want to do, Naoko-chan?"

I twist my hands behind my back, reluctant to tell her that I still had half of a scroll on genjutsus to read, aiming to practice, birds to feed, and purple hyacinths to cultivate.

"Why don't we paint?"

I find myself sitting in front of the koi pond, leaking color onto a white canvas. Hisano hums a slow melody next to me. It can't make up for the sweet crooning of my mother's flute, but it reassures me all the same.

Discreetly, the tension in my shoulders ebb away.

* * *

雛

* * *

I turn three alone in the silence of my room. Kaa-san and Tou-san are both on missions. Curling up around the fabric of my blanket, I try to pretend that it's something it isn't(-but nothing can replace the warmth of bodies).

We celebrate two months later, when Kaa-san finds time after being released from the hospital for chakra deprivation.

This time, it's explosive tags and ninja wire and weights.

(I fasten the latter across both my wrists and ankles and throw the others in my supply box, for when I myself head into war.)

* * *

雛

* * *

My chakra is a warm hum in the center of my stomach, waiting to be used. With my efforts, it has become much more pliant, and the range of my byakugan expands to three meters. I've learned how to pick out the bits of information I need from the ones I don't, and the blurry pinpoints that used to be streaks of brightness inside the body have become sharper to my eyes.

By spring, I've memorized two hundred and seventy eight of the three hundred and sixty one tenketsu in the body. The smaller points are still hard to pick out, but with each exercise they become clearer as well. Hisano is surprising in her support, helping me with the kata I haven't yet learned. I find it much easier to angle each strike correctly when I have a visualization of where I'm supposed to hit.

There was nothing stimulating to do but paint and train, and painting sometimes brings back things I don't want to think about. It's been like that way since I could move my tiny body from the reliance of others.

I've learned to find joy in the slick of sweat on my skin, the bright energy in work, the relieving caress of success. It was amazing, this body. It didn't have any of the awkwardness or sluggishness of my old one. It was nimble, agile, fingers and limbs able to fly through seals and stanzas much faster than I ever could've done in my previous life.

And as such, my skills are improved and honed.

I won't lie. Sometimes, I remember colorful cartoons and the freedom to go wherever I wanted and hours of browsing on a tiny electric box, seeing the globe from the comfort of my bed, and I miss them. The savory flavor of a pizza, the jolt of black coffee(-and a life dedicated to worthless work).

But then sometimes, when I think of hours of sitting and staring at a textbook or a board or a website and memorizing and writing and trying to dig up information on test days, I'm glad that I'm not there.

It's a seesaw of balance. Good parts and bad, and all I can do is face reality regardless.

Every morning, I wake up in the morning and let more chakra trickle into the sealed cloth around my limbs, a weight I forget by nightfall.

In my free time, I stick leaves on my body as my aunt(that title sounds so strange in my mind, I muse. None of them had ever been related to me in my brain except my mother and my father) weaved scarves with her hands and fables with her mouth.

The Hyuuga, I've found, privately enjoy telling stories.

Sometimes, we sit in the middle of the amaryllis, weaving flowers together in bracelets and crowns and rings that remind me of Chuya's elaborate creations until I forget that I fear the red(I haven't seen her for five days now). Sometimes, we sit and draw, not needing a single sound but the ringing of the chimes as they click against each other.

Sometimes, when weeks pass without sign of my parents, I go back to watch the hyacinth under the solitary light of the moon. The purple reflects in the white of my eyes, and I wonder if I'll ever smell that melancholy mint ocean again.

Then, there are days when even Hisano gets restless. Days when too many people are gone to feel like we're a clan. Days when we walk around the compound aimlessly, feeding koi that haven't been tended to in days. It's on those days that she takes us out of the compound to wander around Konoha instead.

I meet Uzumaki Kushina one hazy evening at her favorite ramen stand.

"Maa maa, who's _this_ cutie? You didn't tell me you had a kid, dattebane!" The jinchuriki bends down, grinning at me with a vulpine smile. She's vibrant, like fireworks in july, but I can't help the cold iron that runs down my spine at her words.

Even when everyone has bigger concerns than unspoken commands, I don't let the absences rub the trepidation away. The Hyuuga House was a hidden minefield of injustice and elders with sticks up their ass, principles reaching back to far beyond the creation of Konoha.

You did not discuss the main house. You did not discuss the seal. You did not discuss being so directly _related_ to the main house when you weren't, despite the fact that we were all connected in some way or form.

You let the slights and the difference fester obediently in your mind like an infection. Arrogance breeding power breeding hatred.

"No...this is my niece. Naoko Hyuuga." Hisano's soft voice has a little bit of an edge. I ignore the way the reminder sunk down my gut like a too-big bite of fish.

Hisano might be nicer than the rest, but the main house will always be different from the rest of us. If there is any label for special, it's them.

Kushina doesn't seem to catch the subtle bite as she sheepishly rubs the back of her head and apologizes.

"Ahaha...sorry about that."

She looked at me again, sunny.

"Nice to meetcha! I'm Kushina Uzumaki, dattebane! But you can just call me Kushina-nee."

Her hair is red. Fire engine red, cherry red, blood red. _Tomato. Jalapeno._

She lets her name slip through her lips so casually, unaware of the pain and the hurt that trail after her like a shadow. Unaware of her legacy, the son that'll take on her name and world all at once.

I smile back, because that's all I can do at this point, and she can't tell that it's fake because _nobody_ can tell.

"Ohayo, Kushina-nee."

We take seats on the stools next to her, the savory scent of broth wafting appealingly from behind the counter. The owner, Teuchi, greets us with a welcoming smile.

"Ah, Hisano-sama. I haven't seen you around for a while now. I see you've brought a young Hyuuga with you today!"

The man, while not yet old, still gave off a grandfatherly vibe. A real grandfather, not the one that refuses to see me because my father was born second.

I let the homely feel of the ramen stand sink into me, reluctant to melt but reluctant to fight the combined influences of Kushina and Teuchi. A deadly combination indeed.

"So, what'll it be today?"

"I'll have a Tonkotsu ramen, and..." Hisano glances at me promptingly. I quickly scan the menu.

There are only four types of ramen, the four traditional ones: Tonkotsu, Shoyu, Miso, and Shio. From the corner of my eye, I can match Kushina's meal with the image of the last one.

I almost want to smile at the swirling fish cakes floating on the top of her soup, delicately picked around to be saved for the last bite.

I wasn't quite a fan of miso, as it usually included soybean paste, which I wasn't a fan of. The tonkotsu looked too thick for my light stomach at the moment, and the shio had seafood that I wasn't in the mood for.

"A shoyu ramen."

Teuchi gives us a "coming right up!" and leaves the front.

Our food comes in record time, looking delicious. I feel my mouth watering, and I think I understand the whole rave now. Kushina is already on her third bowl.

I drink a sip, and the flavor floods my taste buds. The broth slides down my throat to spread throughout my body, warming me from inside out.

Suddenly, I feel ravenous.

The ramen is gone in record speed down my gullet, and I groan afterwards, laying my head on the counter as the food hits me all at once. The Uzumaki two seats down chuckles as she finishes her tenth bowl.

Here, trapped in the cozy lighting of a small ramen shop and it's delectable-smelling heat, filled to the brilled with a food induced laziness, I never want to leave.

Outside, the world isn't half as bright. And I know, that this bloom of carefree security is temporary.

* * *

雛

* * *

It was a Friday afternoon. Hisano had 'clan business' to attend to today, so I found myself in the company of the glowing Yamanaka that was one of my mother's best friends. Chuya, having just returned that morning from her mission, was quick to regale me with tales of her courier assignments to outposts in Konoha.

And if she brought back hastily written letters in elegant fonts I quickly recognized, I most definitely did not nearly bubble out a sob right then and there.

The chunin sat patiently behind me, lacing honeysuckle into the dark brown of my hair while I ran my eyes over the short sentences again and again, trying to imprint them into my mind.

 _Sweet Naoko, we are okay. I can not describe how much I miss you. If all things end up well, we'll return to_ Sec...irty...ou..r(the words are scratched out) _you soon. Your mother and I are in the same quadrant. I will make sure she's safe._

 _ **Darling, I hope you are well. Do not push yourself too hard training, I will be mad if I see you stationed here. Don't forget to eat your vegetables. I need not remind you of the mochi limit, do I? I will make sure to look after your father. And in case we don't make it home in time,**_

 _ **Happy**_ _Birthday,_ _ **Nao**_ _ko._

("E-Eh? Are you crying, Nao-chan?!" "N-no..." "There there. They said they would be back soon!")

Wiping away the embarrassing wet on my face, I tuck the letters securely in my obi, mentally noting that I would need to get more suitable clothes soon. I _was_ going easy on training, but it would only be an uphill climb from here.

Chuya plucks more of the white and gold flowers and teaches me how to suck out the nectar.

The sun sets on another day, the taste of lingering sweetness on my tongue.

I couldn't help but be wistful in that moment.

Maybe things would end up okay, after all.

* * *

雛

* * *

Hatchlings rustle out their feathers, drying from the slick of the egg. Their eyes pry open and their down grow in. For the next parts of their life, they'll be confined to the nest, fed and raised and growing and growing.

Now, the nestling prepares for what comes beyond.

* * *

雛

* * *

 **Purple Hyacinth represents sorrow, forgiveness, and regret. They are commonly used in funeral arrangements.**

 **The other flowers mentioned have meanings as well, but that was the most prominent one.**

 _ **Extra note:**_ _haha-ue_ _ **is a formal way of saying mother, just like chichi-ue.**_

 _ **Credit to**_ Cyndaquil123 _**for being my beta!**_

 _ **More interactions coming in the next chapter! Naoko's about ready to meet people outside of close family and friends, having been trapped in the compound simply because of Hyuuga habits(belief in superiority to other children, etc). But as she nears the Academy age, she's going to get more chances to explore Konoha.**_

 _ **See ya soon, and thanks for your support!**_


	3. Chapter 3: Life of a Bird

" _Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly too, as your sisters have all fled before you."_

 _-Charlotte Bronte_

* * *

巣雛

* * *

Kaa-san and Tou-san come home near the tail end of October, just as the trees have finished shaking themselves bare of leaves in preparation for the unforgiving winter. I turned four only two months prior, resigning myself to yet another birthday without my parents.

That day, I had been sweeping the last of the autumn foliage from the garden, thinking about whether or not there were pumpkins in Konoha, when I found myself suddenly being crushed against something hard and flat. For a second out of pure confusion, chakra rushed into my eyes, flooding my sight with the intricate details of my byakugan before-

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"C-Chichi-ue! Haha-ue!" I sputter, wrapping myself around the one currently cradling me as the other hugs me from behind, unable to hold back the soggy wobble to my voice. They smell like blood and sweat and the forest, and I can tell now that the thick fabric in front of me is the sturdy vest of a jounin flak jacket.

"Naoko…" Kaa-san croons, and I pinpoint her as the one that's flattening me from the back.

When? How? Why?

I feel like my heart's about to burst out of my chest, emotions surging from me like a storm. Surprise. Relief. Happiness. Sadness. Confusion-I want to explode from trying to hold it all in.

When Tou-san finally lets go of me, I step back and take in the rips and tears in their clothing, places where others had tried to draw blood and presumably failed. I take in the new ragged scratch across the edge of the hiate-ate Kaa-san wears, knowing that the metal had most likely saved her life. I take in the fact that they're standing before me, my mother and my father, with no obvious scars, and most of all, _alive._

"I told you, I would bring us back safe."

And then I start crying all over again, glad that neither of them say a word when I soak their uniforms in tears and snot.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

For my third birthday, I get three sets of sebons and two fuma shuriken from my distant relatives. Hisano picks me out a nice blue silk kimono, and Hiashi, loveable as he was, got me a copy of the bingo book for this year. Which was pretty entertaining to flip through, in all honesty.

The higher the bounty, the more dangerous the target. Or perhaps, the more sensitive information they carried. All the entries had fairly unique appearances and descriptions, some with habits that made me do a double take, but what else did you expect from high level jounins?

My mother handed me a beautifully carved flute, a copy of her own except with a different coloring. I held it with awe, before tackling her in a hug.

I started practicing the next day.

My father promised to teach me any jutsu I want when he got back, with an air of refined ambivalence. Despite knowing it was because he had forgotten to get something, I still found it the most valuable gift.

My eyes glimmered.

Despite the hundreds of useful jutsus that flooded my mind, I already knew which one I wanted to learn. The amount of work it would save me would be more than worth it.

If I hadn't learned to watch every move those around me made, I would've missed the way his shoulder seemed to sag slightly afterwards in a mixture of relief and dread.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

The war was not yet over, but after their months of service, Naoko and Hizashi were allowed a temporary discharge for rest and mental re-evaluations as the struggle along their front dies down. My father was scheduled to return in two days, but mother's tour of duty was over. When I asked why, she shared a coy smile with my father before rubbing her stomach tenderly.

It only took me a heartbeat to understand.

"Well, Naoko-chan, you're going to be a big sister really soon."

I could only gape at the middle of my mother in bafflement, finally realizing the way her stomach curved slightly outward, subtle enough to be hidden under her loose clothing if you weren't looking for the right thing.

"W-When is he gonna be born?" I finally manage to sputter.

Kaa-san smiles brightly, all soft curves and lilting joy.

"Sometime from late June to early July. Plenty of time to prepare, ne?"

Wordlessly, I nod my head, mentally reeling.

I can't believe my father knocked up my mother in the _middle of the battlefield._ Like what, they were fighting enemy nin and he decided the best way to take them out would be to do it right there in front of them? And here I thought my parents actually had restraint.

The giddiness bubbling in my chest betrayed me.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

Before he left, I only got to show my Tou-san my kunai-throwing skills. I wasn't a pro by any means, but all the kunai landed within in the middle of the target, and that was good enough for me. Unless I was planning on messing around with sebon and pressure points(which...honestly wasn't a bad idea now that I thought about it), this level of accuracy would do for now.

Weapons weren't my speciality, and I highly doubt that they ever would be. I was a Hyuuga, and we were known for our battle-ending taijutsu style.

Father gives me a pleased smile, and promises to teach me how to fly shurikens when he gets back. I raise an eyebrow at the amount of vows he was suddenly so pertained to giving before smirking and holding him to it.

Kaa-san and I saw him off at the gates the next day, supplies replenished, well-rested, and determined. Watching the flicker of my father's green vest disappear into the woods in the high speed of a shunshin, I felt reassured that I would see him again.

Mother smiled down at me, sweetness under her faint traces of distress.

"Now...how about some mochi."

I was reminded of why I loved this woman, a matching grin splitting across my face.

"Mhm!"

* * *

巣雛

* * *

If I had thought playing with _kunai_ was fun, I sure as hell wasn't ready for the utter possibilities of ninja wire.

Chuya grinned widely at the fascination pasted across my face, eyes bright and pulling thin strands of silver through her gloved hands. It was cold out after all, being the middle of December. I myself was puffed up in layers and layers of kimono.

"See! I keep telling everyone ninja wire is amazing, but they never listen. Of course, I knew _you_ would get it, Nao-chan!"

She was back in the village again, with a fractured leg this time. Not from fighting, but simply from running too much, too often, or so the Yamanaka had told me sheepishly. She seemed to quite like her courier assignments.

"Here! How about we go to the training grounds and I'll teach you some nifty tricks!"

Leaving the takoyaki stand by Chuya's apartment near the west side of Konoha with the taste of soy sauce still in our mouths, we make quicktime to one of the many wooded arenas in the village. The practice of using chakra to enhance my speed was one of the first things I had learned, and as such it was easy to keep a swift pace and match the chunin ahead of me.

I couldn't help the small tingle of satisfaction inside me as we leap from the roofs of buildings to buildings, the way I had seen ninjas do many months prior. There was just something about the feel of landing on someone's home or store before using it to get to the next. The hopping was fun too, even if the wind was a little too biting right now to be nice, and I enjoyed being able to look down at the streets we pass along with the people that milled about. Civilians and ninjas alike crowded around stands selling warm food, clouds of mist from their breaths and snacks drifting into the air.

I sniffed.

Mm...sweet potatoes.

As we got further from the main roads, the trees got thicker until we were leaping through branches in one of the many forests of Great Konoha. Here or there, I could spot hollows where small prey made their nests for the winter.

Training grounds twelve was where Chuya, my mother, and their team had met when they were eager genin stepping foot onto the path of bloodshed. To this day, it was still Chuya's favored spot for any sort of practice, whether out of habit or rememberance or both.

We landed in the clearing with the soft taps of boots against frozen dirt.

The trees around us are all still lush. Evergreens, though mostly devoid of any indication of life, as they were all napping through the cold months. The grass is stiff with frost.

Chuya looks around, eyes settling on a stump here, a snapped branch there, before she fades, lost in her thoughts. She paces around the clearing for a moment, walking a green circle into the ice.

I shiver, and huddle deeper into my scarf.

Finally, she pauses at the gnarled trunk of a tree slightly closer than the others and runs a hand down the deep scars raking the wood, and the corners of her lips tug up.

Anticipation tugs inside me, recognizing the signs that came as a prelude to her stories.

So far, I had only heard about the first time they left the village(and their third teammate ate poison berries by accident) and the time Kaa-san had to dress up as the daimyo of the wind for an infiltration mission, along with a handful of C-rank snippets. Compared to most, their team had definitely been one of the more manageable ones, brought together by the cool composition of my mother, the charisma of Chuya, and the timidness of Unnamed Teammate Number Three.

"You know, your mother and I always worked better together than we did with our other teammate." Chuya began, wistfully, back still towards me. I feel like I'm losing feeling in my feet from standing still, the cold bleeding through my socks. I'm still wearing my geta, as I could just regulate chakra through my feet to keep me toasty, and that's what I do.

"Maybe it was because we were the only two girls, face with him as well as our male jounin instructor. Maybe it was because Natsuki and I seemed to click, and Yuu...Yuuto didn't."

I blinked in surprise, having noticed the way her other teammate's name caught in her throat before she could say it. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear more.

"He was always shier than the two of us, couldn't speak up to save his life."

She laughed, a horrible, empty sound.

"Maybe that was why we didn't notice he was gone until we reached the gates of Konoha."

I didn't move an inch.

This was not the usual tale of childish shenanigans I was told. This was something much more personal, and much more important.

Chuya's eyes flickered back towards me, and she stepped away quickly from the tree as if burned. Nervously, she laughs, though the damage is already done.

"Well, enough about that, how about we get started on the ninja wire, hmm?"

She quickly ensnares my mind and the clearing with layers of silvery traps. She teaches me that wire could be attached to anything; kunai, shuriken, sebon, even your hands. It would go unnoticed if one didn't pay the right type of attention, the only downfall being the gleam of metal if light catches on it. That's why it was preferable to use ninja wire in the dark.

"And with your Byakugan, that shouldn't be a problem! Where the rest of us might fail in sight, you have the advantage."

She flips and twists through snares I can't see, a deadly dancer. It feels like anywhere I look, my attention is always drawn away by the glint of another wire until I realize I'm surrounded.

For someone with such a sunny disposition, the Yamanaka was absolutely _terrifying_ with traps.

Chuya sets down a stump she procures from nowhere(probably another ninja trick) down in the middle of the clearing before she leaps away again, following an invisible rhythm.

"Let me tell you here, Nao-chan. Jutsus might be flashy and poison might be deadly, but when you find yourself on the field without your teammates, without your chakra, without any more weapons, ninja wire will be the thing that saves your life."

She pulled, and the log split into three clean pieces as all the wires converged into one space, the metal going straight through wood like butter.

She offers me a cunning grin, hands laced with all-encompassing power.

"And of course, be a valuable asset regardless."

She unwinds her net and offers me the first head of a spool with a smile of encouragement.

It takes me two hours to set up a trap that met Chuya's satisfaction, and even then I know I'm nowhere close to her level of mastery.

"Wires are a sleight of hand," She whispers, "you shouldn't know that they're there until it's too late."

I work the web of a spider from my fingertips.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

"What...happened to Yuuto?"

It was snowing again, and the sun had already fallen far beyond the horizon. Days were much shorter in winter, but the white of the snow reflects the moon and gives more than enough light.

We have the heaters running, so it isn't as cold inside.

Kaa-san looked surprised at my question, before her mouth set into a hard line and she gazed out past me, into the garden. A thin veil of darkness rolled out over her eyes.

"I suppose Chuya told you, then?"

I paused, not wanting to get the woman in trouble if this was some sort of forbidden topic, but judging by the hood in my mother's eyes, she already knew. It was hard to hide anything from her, byakugan or not.

I nodded.

She sighed, but it seemed to be more out of a need to breathe than exasperation.

Silence sits with us for a moment, Kaa-san dusting off her thoughts before she finally spoke with a cold rim in her tone.

"Yuuto was captured by enemy nins, the brothers of the bandit we were sent to kill a few days back as we were on our way home from a mission. They took him right from us."

The words were bitter, spat out like raw apricot seeds after their acrid taste hit your tongue.

"Of course, the moment we realized, we instantly sent out for a request to return and retrieve him. The Hokage granted us permission, and we were out for six days, trying to hunt down where he was."

Kaa-san looked so tired in that moment, like all her years of death and death and more death had joined together into her face.

"We would've looked longer, but at the end of that week, the Hokage gave us an order for withdrawal. Chuya and I had stepped into his office with vigor, ready to struggle to continue our search. Instead, an ANBU led us to the T&I, where they showed us a black bag."

The fog from her tea curled in the air, but it no longer seemed to warm her.

"Of course, deep inside, we had always known that it was unlikely he was still alive, but we had to have that hope when we looked. For ourselves, if not for him."

For a minute, she's quiet again. And when she speaks next, it's with a twisted fury.

"Yuuto had returned in our absence. Mutilated beyond belief, with the assumption that he had faced days of torture before death."

My mind is blank. There is nothing I can say.

Kaa-san turns to me, a terribly sad look in her eyes.

"That is why, darling, you must understand. The path of a ninja, is not easy."

After the sun fully sets, I lay in my bed, watching shadows shift across my ceiling.

There are a lot of truths found in this world. There are a million different paths to take that would all make sense.

You could close yourself off forever, to prevent the pain of getting too attached to someone too weak to survive.

You could love as you wish, be free with your heart, and experience the wonder of mutual compassion and intimacy at the risk of feeling the hurt much, much more.

You could walk straight onto the warpath, cutting down all those in your way, easing the agony with the blood of others.

I wondered which was the correct choice.

(The answer, there was none.)

* * *

巣雛

* * *

The months passed fast, the absence of my father eased by the gentle presence of my mother. Hisano still dropped by every once in a while, which was nice as I found her more likeable than many of my other relatives. She would coo with my mother over baby planning and room options and developmental talk. Despite my resistance at being dragged into their blatantly maternal talk, I still helped clear out a place for my sibling(Neji if it was a boy and Nori if it was a girl, but I already knew which one it was going to be. How many Neji Hyuugas were there?)'s room and helped pick a color for the walls("...pale yellow").

Training still persisted as I improve my aim, timing, and chakra control. I learn almost all the kata of the Gentle Fist, and my Byakugan expands four meters more meters. Slow, but insidious.

Kaa-san's bulge grows more and more. At night, I take to curling against her stomach, feeling the hum of life emitting from inside her and letting silly smiles slip out whenever Neji kicks. I already knew that I would protect him with my life, this innocent being, not even yet born.

Eventually, Neji grows big enough that I can see the tiny glow of his chakra system from the gardens.

For six months, we slowly fill the newly emptied room with cradles and toys and baby powder. I pick out a softly twittering mobile that spun amber brushed birds to hang above his head.

I train harder as the days progress, determined to be someone that could keep Neji safe when...when.

When Hizashi eventually died.

My hits against the log in front of me slow. And then stop.

When…

I slump into the grass, eyes ahead but unseeing.

I had completely forgotten, hadn't I? I had shoved those thoughts so far back into my mind, that I had only ever let knowledge of the world around me slip out in trickles when something triggered a reminder. Like Kushina, with her verbal tic and vibrancy. Like Neji, with the brief image of a serious brown-haired boy.

I had been selfish. Was still selfish. In lieu of saving myself heartache, I almost nearly forgot about precious information. Information that could save those that had become so important to me.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I wasn't supposed to care.

And now, I did. Too much.

Desperately, I dig into my own brain, shifting through piles and piles of worthless facts; _the habits of lizards, essays on U.S. Presidents, the way atomic bombs could decimate cities, how to fix a computer, the password to my phone-_ but I find nothing about my family. My old one, the one that had cared(I think, I hope) about me as well. The one that had raised me to be me- not that I was the same person anymore.

I don't find anything about myself, except lingering reminders of food preferences and other equally mundane facts that I knew had to have been sprung from _somewhere,_ but all the deeply personal memories were gone.

That...was what I had wanted, wasn't it?

To forget everything.

So that I could move on.

It felt like my heart was breaking all over again.

I was spiralling. Who am I, without my old memories? What defines who I am? My personality?

I wasn't Naoko Hyuuga! I was...I was…

...I couldn't remember who I was.

All I know is who I am now. And I _was_ Naoko Hyuuga. The girl with long dark brown hair the color of molten chocolate, face too delicate and sharp to belong to me, eyes too big and white and blank to let anyone see into me. The girl that likes the way soft mochi stretched itself in her mouth. The girl that admired her father and her mother and her Asuka and her Chuyae. The girl that performed the Gentle Fist as smoothly as a fish in water, the one that would bring honor and prestige to their clan.

The girl that was fated to be bound by a seal, wings clipped by a power she never wanted to have.

The girl that festered a rotting hatred in her.

That...was me. And I was her.

And the world would keep spinning on even if I wasn't.

Life seemed to be spurred back into motion, and I take a deep breath.

Hyuuga Hiashi was fated to die in the Hyuuga Incident, when Hinata was three years of age. Neji would receive his curse seal and lose his way when Hinata was three years old. I would be shoved into the cage when Hinata was three years old.

I had four years to change things.

It didn't feel like long enough.

Getting back up from my seat in the dirt, I resumed my training.

It _would_ be long enough.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

"I heard from Hisano-sama that you you've almost learned all the kata of the Gentle Fist."

My mother's voice was soft, unprobbing. More a statement than a question.

"Yes."

She leisurely takes a sip of tea before getting up from where she had been sitting on the her cushion. The ball of her stomach only faintly visible at this point in her pregnancy.

"Well, let's see it then."

Her face gives nothing away, but I can see the slight hint of playfulness in her eyes.

I blink in surprise. It's usually my father teaching me new weapons and techniques and sparring with me. Not to mention...my line of sight travels downwards to where my brother was still developing in my mother's body.

Catching my look, Kaa-san huffed.

"People seem to forget that I'm a jounin. I am only in my second trimester, Naoko. I will be fine."

Well, now that her pride was involved, I knew there was no was I was going to get my mother to change her mind. Disgruntled, I shift into the first stance of the gentle fist, the opening kata. I haven't yet learned how to make the chakra spike that's needed for the taijutsu style to do any real and lasting damage, which helps reassure me the smallest bit.

My Byakugan activates without a second prompt. My chakra control had grown significantly in my parent's absence. I would display it for her.

Mother stands in the grass in front of me, and beckons me to attack her. I focus in.

If she was truly that confident, then I would go full out.

I aim for the tenketsu above her liver, something that would be crippling with the amount of pain it would generate if hit by the complete version of the Gentle Fist. Kaa-san blocks easily, but I let my light strike slide along her arm, my other hand coming up from my side to hit the string of glowing lights above her stomach, but she blocks those with an unfair ease as well.

No matter, I grab onto my mother's hand instead, my right leg kicking straight up for her arm in the intent of breaking it clean in half. Kaa-san's other hand comes around and stops the path of my foot, and for a second I am suspended in the air before I leap backwards.

I don't take more than a second for breath before dashing back in with a jump.

It's difficult. I still only go up to her hip, and the small stature of my body can't compete with the defense my mother provides.

She wasn't lying when she gave the testament to her skill. I never should've underestimated her.

In the end, I land in the dirt, breathing hard as my mother's voice tells me enough. I can't help the faint tendrils of shame that crawl into me, even as she gives me a smile.

"You've made very good progress, Naoko. You'll definitely grow to be very strong."

She sets a hand on my head, lovingly, before turning around.

"The snacks should be done, so come in and wash up."

All my insecurities fade away in the face of sakura mochi. Not as good as regular mochi, in my opinion, but still delicious.

There's still a bit of a chill to the air, but it hasn't snowed for two weeks. The cold press of winter is transitioning to spring, but I wish that the brightness of beautiful February would never fade away.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

Tou-san doesn't make it back home in time for Neji's birth.

I sit in the waiting room, my heart in my throat, listening to the screams that the white walls couldn't suppress, shifting uncomfortable in the foreign environment of the hospital. The smell of antiseptic burned in my nose.

I barely had time to slip on some shoes earlier today before running off to get someone to take my mother to the hospital when her water broke. She had already been bleeding by the time I got back with someone in tow, which considering the fact that we lived right in the middle of a bunch of dojutsu using ninjas, was fast.

The Hyuuga, someone I faintly recognized as a newly minted chunin by the name of Toshiro, had also panicked until my mother growled at him to take her to the hospital, eyes practically flaying the poor boy's flesh off with her glare that screeched of I'm-actually-giving-birth-right-now-and- _you're_ -scared?!

He had instantly shut up with a meek "yes ma'am" before delicately gathering her up in his arms and rocketing off to the hospital. I was left to watch with a gape of betrayal.

Luckily, I knew where the building was, and the occasional drops of blood I found on the road was an equally reassuring and concerning trail.

So here I was now, hands twisted into the fabric of my kimono with a nervous Hyuuga child-soldier that had told me about his rank had come from a field promotion sitting next to me. At most, he could have only been fifteen.

While I was gripped with worry, he seemed more nervous, although we both winced everytime we heard an ear-splitting screech from the room at our backs.

"It's okay, you can go back." I finally said, a calm mutter.

He looked over at me, body stiff and unsure, but still with the same poise that all members of my clan carried.

"Will you be alright alone?" He asked, voice betraying his age.

I nod.

He only casts me a backward glance as he gets up and leaves. Although the members of my clan didn't often interact, we still knew the news about each other. On goings and stories and state of beings. Case in point, my status as a 'prodigy', and by assumption, the fact that I'm more capable of handling difficult situations.

It wasn't incorrect, but it wasn't right either.

I sit alone until the windows tell me it's night and the hospital lights flicker on. A nurse walks by and offers me food in a kind tone. I accept so that she leaves, but I don't take a single bite. My stomach is rolling with anxiety, for both my mother and my currently-being-born-brother, and I doubt I can force anything down.

Hours and hours later, the screams get steadily frailer, quivering at the end with a weakness I knew my mother would never tolerate in herself. The clock tells me it's three in the morning.

Another hour passes, and there's not a single howl of pain.

A bad feeling itches inside of me, a mixture of disquiet and tension.

All of the sudden, a nurse bursts out of the room, hands still covered in blood and looking frantic. His eyes land on me, and I'm being dragged out of my chair.

I stand in front of my mother.

The room is dimly lit, and it only half works in hiding how _tired_ she looks. Her dark hair is still pasted to her face, and sweat keeps coming despite the fact I have no doubt she must be facing some sort of dehydration. Her eyes are hazy, and I wonder if she could even recognize who I was.

"Do you want to hold him?" My mother's voice is raspy from hours of screaming.

She barely has to energy to move her head towards the small bundle in her arms, an indication for me to take.

Carefully, I reach out to transfer Neji into my arms. I make sure to support his neck with my arm, the way I've been taught so, so long ago when I watched other people's children for them.

He's small, and his face is still the wrinkled prune of all newborns, but he has a bright flush to his face. Healthy.

I brush a tiny fluff of brown hair back from his forehead.

Kaa-san smiles at me secretly, already knowing that I was head over heels.

"Good…" Her voice is softer now, and my eyes snap back up. "I knew you would be a good sister…"

My eyes grow wide as she seems to deflate, sinking into the mattress with a heavy exhale.

"Take...care...of him…..ne…."

I freeze. My body feels like it was going into shock, not believing what I was seeing.

Mother doesn't move.

The heart monitor goes wild, and the residing doctor barks out terms that I don't know. Someone shoves me backward as the blue of policy issued scrubs invade my vision.

The nurses and the doctor try to pump chakra back into my mother's body and jumpstart her heart, but she's already long gone.

I feel like I'm trapped in a horror movie. There was no way this was happening.

I couldn't do anything but hold Neji like a dead weight, and he squirms feebly in my grasp.

Someone, another nurse, shoves me back out of the room, and I don't move from where the door is closed in my face. All I do, is stand and stare.

A lifetime later, the door is opened again. The doctor looks weary as he walks out, stripping off his red, red gloves.

"Naoko Hyuuga?" He asks, and both of us knows that he doesn't have to.

I can barely bring myself to nod.

"Father on duty?"

Another tilt of the head.

"It was a long struggle. She tried her hardest, and she held on just long enough to give birth."

Stop stalling. Just tell me already.

"But she lost too much blood and chakra. I'm sorry for your loss, but your mother is dea…"

I feel like I've been dunked in water, because I'm looking at this tired, tired man from the bottom of a pool. I can't hear the rest of his words; water floods my ears and pushes out his voice.

Everything is muted. Muted and pulsing.

I'm drowning.

I nod again, even though I have no idea what's being said. Someone is pushing me down, and I feel the back of a chair meet me.

I'm drowning, and there's no one left.

Mouths move without words. Faces blur into darkness.

Who are they. Who am I.

Hands reach out, and they try to take the weight from my arms. I don't let them. I can't remember why, but this weight is important. It doesn't belong anywhere else other than with me.

Why? Why is that?

Why is this weight so important?

I force myself to look down, and like the clouds parting, I'm finally able to see out of that warped pool.

He's sleeping now, dark lashes flush against pudgy cheeks.

He's breathing, a rhythmic 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3.

He still has gunk on his face. I try to brush some of it away(cold, but still barely wet) with my hand, but all that accomplishes is me getting it on myself.

There's another gurgled noise from beyond the water, and a hand appears in my vision. It's holding a cloth, soft and soaked. I take it, and use that to wipe away the slime from his skin.

This...is Neji, isn't it? Neji, my brother.

"...aoko. Naoko. Listen to me."

I'm resurfacing, and there's a crowd of faces around me. Two I recognize as one of the nurses and the doctor, and the other as my aunt. She looks at me carefully.

"Naoko. We need to feed and bathe Neji. The doctor needs to get his measurements and make sure he's okay." I look down again.

Neji?

"Can you do that, Naoko? Give us Neji?"

Every single one of my instincts screamed against it, but I carefully handed him over. The doctor takes him, and stands up to go. Instantly, I move to follow him before being shoved back down again.

I redirect my gaze to Hisano Hyuuga. My brain struggles to match her up to someone that I knew, someone that would be safe.

"Your mother is dead."

Stop. Stop saying that. I know, I know she is. I was there when she breathed her last breath. I was the one she said her last words to.

I _know_. So stop reminding me.

"But it is going to be okay."

Liar. _Liar liar liar liar liar._

You don't know. You don't know the future. You don't know what it felt like. _You're_ not the one that's having everything ripped away from her right now.

You can't understand the pain of losing everything twice.

"You need to be strong."

I was never strong enough. If I was, maybe she wouldn't be gone. If I was, maybe I would still be able to listen to the windchimes with my mother, wrapped in her fabric scent, tasting her cooking and having her laugh at me. My regal, dignified, _strong_ mother.

I feel numb but goosebumps are breaking out all over my body. It feels like I'm dying.

 _Flowers wilt in the winter_ , I think delusionally.

It's the first days of July.

And my mother is dead.

Sorrow crashes over me like waves. All I can do is bury my face in the sleeves of my kimono and _cry, cry, cry._ It feels like the tears never end.

I cry until all I can feel is the burning of my face. I cry until all that lingers in my dry mouth is salt. I cry until I feel like I've flooded the entire world.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

Pink carnations have two-fold meanings. On one side, it symbolizes remembrance and grief. On the other, it stands for the unending depth of a mother's love.

That's the bouquet I lay at Natsuki Hyuuga's grave. Loving mother, fearless warrior, and patient woman. Always afraid to get too close to others, in fear that they would hurt her the same way she eventually had hurt me.

Asuka stands by me, soundless, but her knuckles are white where she clutches her handful of gladiolus. Chuya is sobbing shamelessly into a sleeve of zinnia. Two of the only five people my mother had trusted to let into her life.

I don't cry that day. I don't have anything left.

But I know that here, death comes in spades. It ebbs and flows like the tide, and I shouldn't allow myself to be dragged under when it does come back to lap at my feet. Kaa-san would've never wanted it that way. All I could do now was make good on her last wish.

Neji mewls in my hold, accepting his bottle easily. I sit in one of the empty hospital rooms, where they have insisted he stay until he's either old enough to return home without supervision or my father gets back.

This place doesn't fit him. He belongs in the brightly painted comfort of his room, where Kaa-san and I piled toys and blankets and all other things that were comfortable and childish. The room we built from love, filled with the scent of lavender and the last lingers of our mother's presence.

I should've know. I was too worried about Hizashi to realize that I had never seen a single shot of Neji's mother.

When he finishes all of his milk, I carefully lay him against my shoulder and burp him, years of previous babysitting dictating my actions. The nurse in the room with me is silent, watching me with a sort of disbelief.

I wipe spittle from his face and rock him in my arms, warm and vulnerable and mine.

I won't leave his side for the world.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

The war ends a month later, and with it, the pressing sense of doom that had been lost in my grief.

Now, I could look at my toolbox with something other than solemn acceptance, and drawing from it's contents felt less like a rite of passage. Now I wouldn't have to worry about the burning metal that would scar the curse seal into my skin if I had graduated the Academy in times of war, in order to protect the Byakugan on the field.

But with every blessing comes a curse. And every curse comes with a blessing.

Hiashi Hyuuga comes home safe, to a family with one less and one extra, and clutches us like we're the last objects on Earth.

There is no more homemade mochi to celebrate, and there is one less thing to celebrate about, but I still manage a small smile.

Neji comes home for the first time in a month, and Hizashi looks at me with a mixture of sorrow and pity and concern. I pretend that I'm unafflicted.

I needed to be strong, for the three of us both.

He mourns. I know he mourns. He walks the house like a ghost, but he still brushes his hand against Neji's cheek lovingly, and that's all I can really ask for.

I'm still the one to feed and bathe and change him, father not really knowing the ins and out of childcare, even as he tries to help. I don't mind, though. I feel better when it's me taking care of Neji, knowing that I would give everything to protect him.

The few nights he isn't busy, Hizashi picks up a bottle and sits in the rocking chair and lures his son to sleep. And everytime, a small part of me mends together again.

Things are shattered right now, but I knew they would heal with time. And with each fracture, the bone grows back stronger than ever.

I lay on my father's lap at night, like how I did so long ago. He's dressed again in his yukata, the way he should be. Elegance always fitted him better than violence did.

"Long before the dawn of Konoha…" He starts, and I press my face into his stomach, the minty-tea scent renewed after the blood and dirt had been scrubbed off him.

The moonlight becomes a inviting glow.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

Dirt smudges itself onto my clothes and skin as I kneel in the gardens. Behind the rows of daffodils was where I had planted my Hyacinth, bursting stalks of clustered flowers that looked inappropriate next to the bright yellow they bloomed next to, yet complementing in a way that extended far beyond appearances.

After all, loss does not come without love.

I snip their stalks at the bottom and wrap them up in tissue paper, the curling purple vibrant enough to hurt amongst the black of its sheath. I had not used these flowers for Kaa-san, because they had meant to represent a different fear. The fear of cannon folder made of Academy kids, of blood on kimonos and kunais, of my parent's bodies on the field, amongst the many others, sanguine and defiled. A horrible, violent end.

But Kaa-san had gone in peace. She had died, not by the hands of another faceless ninja, but by the love she had for her family.

And that, was not the same as war.

I go inside and clean up, washing away the few bits of soil that had managed to find their way under my nails, and I change out of my regular grey yukata into the same black clothes all shinobi families were to wear to the gathering today. It is not unfamiliar to me, as the cloth belt around the middle resembles my obi, albeit the skirt is shorter than what I'm used too. The long sleeves are shorter as well, and tighter, and I feel a little naked without the cocooning security of my kimono hiding my hands from sight.

I eye the long pants of my father with longing.

Neji is left at home under the watch of one of the many housewives of the branch family, a distant cousin at most. I make sure to press a kiss to his forehead before I leave, and it stops his fussing for the minute it takes for us to slip out the door.

I don't want to leave him, but I didn't want him to ever experience the immorality of death.

The sky is a cloudy grey today, a slight chill in the air. Unusual for the sunny habits of Konoha but definitely fitting.

We were to gather at the Cemetery to honor those that had fallen during the war, and instill hope for those that had not. It's almost disconcerting to see the floods of other people, other ninja, that were dressed in the exact same outfits.

I spot a flash of silver in the crowd, the masked face of a boy that had lost too much to something he had never wanted, and I suddenly feel out of place.

I had never fought in the war. I had seen the deficits it had wrought, felt the fear and the want for it to end, but I had never stepped foot onto the battlefield. I had lost my mother, but it was never to the gore of combat. I had never lost anyone close to me to the toils of war, or had to spill lifesblood over and over, wondering when it would end.

What I had felt during the war was a pale comparison to what those standing here today had experienced.

We bow our heads, facing the tall, grabbing flame of the Will of Fire. Consuming all, and leaving only scraps of squads and families in the aftermath.

The great, burning fire of Konoha.

It's a short service, but by the time we get ready to leave, the sky has already began clearing up. People start talking again, soft whispers that turn into mild chatters.

Tou-san starts on the walk home, but I stop, the bouquet of purple still clutched in my arms.

He looks back, eyes traveling from the flowers to my face. And he offers me a small smile, weak compared to the ones he used to give before the war, but a smile nonetheless.

"Be back before dawn" He says, before turning around again.

I watch his retreating back until my father is swallowed up by the crowd, and I press the flowers tightly to my chest.

The memorial stone is not hard to find. It's a gleaming black obsidian, surrounded by plates of red stone in the midst of a clearing, looking awkwardly out of place. But then again, the sight of memorials should never be out of place.

To my relief, no one else is there, but there are already tens of flowering arrangements draped over and around the monument, leaving only the names of the fallen ones uncovered.

I lay mine down on top of a pile of white lilies in the front, grimacing as I think of all the ones that had put the arrangements here and who they must've lost.

But I am not here today to mourn. Instead, I set down my flowers to thank those that had taken my father and my mother's place in the war, even if the former had been lost. She had still lived long enough to come home and give us Neji, and for that, I was eternally grateful.

It could've been them inscribed there on that dark, dark stone. Reduced to just names for future generations to ponder over. Casualties of greed.

I take a moment of silence to trace over every single name on that stone.

Then, I turn, and I walk away.

I didn't feel quite ready to go home yet, despite the part of me that always longed to see Neji, and so my feet landed on the rocky banks of the river that ran nearby instead. It isn't particularly wide or deep, the water a crystal blue and the masses of stone on the other bank easily visible, but the sound of the rushing water is calming.

I trek north, letting pebbles crunch under my open toed sandals. The design of the shoe prevent any rocks from actually getting into my sandals, and the sturdy cushion was nice despite the way my toes felt exposed. It was more comfortable than my geta, for sure, and less likely to break my ankle if I fell.

I would have to get use to these. The shoes of a ninja.

Who knows, soon it still yet might be my turn.

I travel for a time, until the sky is once again blue and the clouds are once again white. Yet, the shadows they cast still pull the world into tones of blue and gray, like the days I would expect from a chilly Autumn.

My chakra pushes and pulls within me, and I occasionally let it move naturally through my body, activating my Byakugan on and off like a switch. I roll it out to its furthest extent, and then push for a little more.

The cliff to my right grows taller and taller, the ravine that I walk cutting deeper into the land. I admire the sharpness of the craggy loom of rock and the tiny dot that looked like a person falling from the top-.

Wait, what.

My Byakugan doesn't extend high enough for me to see from my distance, so I don't bother activating it. Instead, I push chakra into my legs as I watch the far-off falling figure, fifteen meters away, fourteen meters away, dashing towards it as fast as I possibly could. The closer I get, the easier it is for me to make out a shape and affirm that yes, it was in fact a human.

My mind races to think.

I had just witnessed graveyards of loss.

This kid(because that size could only be a child) would not be one of them.

My hands flash down my body, checking for tools I already know aren't there. I hadn't packed a single kunai or wire or anything that could've been helpful, thinking that it would just be a day of mourning. And it _would_ be, if I didn't think of anything soon.

The boy is two meters away, at least another thirty up in the air. He's on his back, plummeting.

All I have on me is my chakra, and so I use it.

I push as much of it as I could into my legs, bending down for a split second before I'm shooting through the air, wind whipping my long hair behind me. My bangs smack me in the face painfully, but all I can focus on is trajectory and the body that gets closer and closer with every second that passes.

I reach out my arms.

And I snatch him out of the air, bridal-style, like a heron striking fish from the water. He's heavy, heavier than I expected, big enough to be my age or older, and suddenly my smooth arch becomes more of a plummet.

I can hear his noises of surprise, but I just press his head closer into my shoulder, pressing my lips together into a thin line as I have to snap the flow of my chakra to my legs and redirect it in record time to my arms. The amount needed to carry him is enough that I need to coat my arms twice, and the chakra in my legs father for a brief second before I force more in.

It feels like I'm trying to tear myself apart, but my control is good, better than any other clan kid near my age range, and I manage.

With alarm, I find my reserves depleting. I quickly judge that I still had at least half left, enough to make this jump land safely without having to toe chakra exhaustion.

Gritting my teeth as the ground comes closer- _four meters, three meters, two meters, one-_ I send a last burst of chakra straight to my feet, and they hit home.

I skid, digging my heels in as the layers of rocks sprayed up for the first few feet, and then I'm standing again, sandals up to the ankle in the dirt beneath the rocks, the boy still heavy in my arms, no bones broken, and _not likely to be six feet under anytime soon._

My breath is forced out of me like a fish gulping for water, and I suddenly take in the way my knees are shaking from the strain and the anxiety, the cold sweat that's running down my back, and the way my entire body tingles with the last remains of adrenaline-and I feel like I want to pass out right there right then.

But instead, I ease my grip from where I had been clutching the boy to my shoulder hard enough that a broken nose was a possibility, and his own death-grip on my shirt(still black and dreary and I'm so, _so_ glad that it's not because I was wearing it to another funeral) eases.

I take in his short black hair, silk against my hand. I take in the dark, dark blue of his sleeveless high collar shirt. I take in the sight of his shorts, tied with a kunai pouch at the side, and his ninja sandals, and the sharp red fan blazed into his back.

Ninja child.

And I feel my relief turn into a biting _anger._

I shakily set him down, and he's taller than me, with pitch black eyes and long lashes and a face that's too childish and yet not childish enough.

Crows swarm our bodies, but I don't break the gaze.

Regardless of whether or not I knew who he was at the time, my first meeting with Itachi Uchiha was, to be blunt, an unexpected surprise.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

Being coddled in the nest does not last forever. When the nestlings have shed the last of their down in their final childhood molt, flight feathers grow in.

Fledglings test the new layers of their wings. Those that jump too early fall. Those that let the winds comb through their plume find themselves ruffling in anticipation.

Some have to be shoved out.

It's time to leave the nest, regardless of how much they may want to stay.

The draw of the summer breeze is greater still.

* * *

巣雛

* * *

 _ **Yup! Things are picking up.**_

 _ **This might be the only new chapter for a while, as I finally have to face the work left for the rest of summer. Also, the next chapter is difficult to write.**_

 _ **Tell me your thoughts! ^-^**_


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